


The First Step

by starlight_in_the_gloom



Series: RWBY Cosmere AU [1]
Category: Cosmere - Brandon Sanderson, RWBY, Stormlight Archive - Brandon Sanderson
Genre: can you read this without watching RWBY? Orobably, god i am so tired, oh boy here we go - Freeform, that archive warning is there because they fight monsters and stuff, they still have some character development to go through, uhhhh probably a little ooc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-06
Updated: 2019-05-06
Packaged: 2020-02-27 02:00:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18729439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starlight_in_the_gloom/pseuds/starlight_in_the_gloom
Summary: Renarin Kholin is finally where he wants to be. On the roster for Beacon Academy, the school where his father is headmaster and gifted students come to learn to battle the forces of evil.Unfortunately, high school is a bitch, especially if the Apocalypse is happening, too.





	The First Step

**Author's Note:**

> Okay yeah that ooc note? I meant it. These babes still have lots of character development
> 
> I blame the discord

 

Renarin—Shallan—Kaladin—Adolin

Renarin had a bad feeling he knew what the initiation challenge would be.

His father hadn’t told him- completely understandable, given Renarin had more-or-less tricked his way onto the student roster- but he could make an educated guess.

He stood on a metal platform by the edge of a cliff, in a neat line with the other new students. The cliff dropped off sharply into the Emerald Forest, a wide expanse of tall green trees that stretched over western Vale.

The forest floor was hidden by the thick green canopy, but every student here knew that Grimm lurked inside. Well. He hoped they did.

Dalinar Kholin stood in front of the line, waiting patiently for any stragglers to catch up and take their places on the platforms. This would likely be the only day where punctuality was not a priority.

At Beacon Academy, you learned to fight the monsters of Grimm, who wouldn’t wait for you to show up before eating innocent civilians.

Renarin fidgeted with the hem of his jacket, running his fingers over the seams. His bow, Glys, was a comforting weight on his back. When Dalinar flung the students off the cliff, as Renarin suspected he would, at least he’d be prepared.

Finally, the last student joined them. They formed an odd motley of students, gathered from all over Remnant. Beacon was one of four academies of its kind, the kind where you didn’t learn history and math, so much as shooting and stabbing.

There was lots of stabbing. And shooting.

Beacon was easily the best of the four academies, although Renarin was likely biased, seeing as his father was the headmaster, and he’d been practically raised on school grounds.

“For years, you have trained to become warriors.” Dalinar began abruptly and Renarin snapped to attention. “Today, your abilities will be evaluated in the Emerald Forest.”

Jasnah, assistant headmaster, stepped up beside him. “Many of you have heard rumors about the assignment of teams. Allow me to end that confusion.

“Each of you will be given teammates today. These teammates are permanent and will be with you for the rest of your time at Beacon. It is in your best interested to be paired with someone whom you can work well with.” Jasnah smiled coyly. That wasn’t a good sign. “That being said, the first person you make eye contact with after landing will be your partner for the next four years.”

“…Landing?” A small voice piped up. It was swiftly ignored.

“After you’ve partnered up, head to the northern end of the forest.” Dalinar continued. “There is no doubt you’ll meet opposition along the way. Do not hesitate to destroy everything in your path, or you will die.”

That was just something his father told new students to keep them on their toes- if anything seriously dangerous happened, he or Jasnah would step in. Er, probably.

“You will be monitored and graded for the duration of your initiation. You will find an abandoned temple at the end of the path containing several relics. Each pair must choose one and return to the top of the cliff. We will regard that item, and your standing, and grade you appropriately. Are there any questions?” Dalinar scanned the line. A girl to his left raised her hand shyly.

“Um, sir-“

“Good.” Jasnah interrupted. “Now, take your positions.”

The platforms activated, and Renarin went sailing through the air.

He thrashed in the air, heart pumping. He thought he was prepared, but anxiety rushed through his veins and set his hands shaking.

No, he told himself forcefully. Now isn’t the time. Now is the time to be strong.

He slid Glys off his back, and carefully loaded one of his blue arrows. His aim didn’t have to be perfect, he just had to hit a higher branch.

He could do that. Renarin aimed, eyes streaming from the wind that whipped at his hair and clothing. He fired.

The arrow disappeared into the canopy. Renarin closed his eyes and breathed deeply as he crashed through the leaves after it.

Before he could hit the ground, he activated the paired dust crystals that connected the arrow and his bow. Glys hummed softly and glowed with blue light.

His descent slowed and he swung in an arc underneath the branch where his arrow had landed. As he past beneath, his weight drew the arrow from the tree, and it hit the dirt with a thump.

His momentum slowed, he rolled to the ground. It was messier than he would’ve liked, but at least he was all in one piece. With another tap of the crystal, the blue arrow came flying back to Renarin, and he caught it without even fumbling or losing his balance. Score!

Renarin had three blue arrows, all paired with blue dust crystals to his bow. Two of them were much lighter than other arrows, so he could pull them back to him after firing, or to alter his trajectory during a fall.  
The third was weighted, and he could use that to pull himself upwards, or draw other things toward him, as long as it wasn’t too heavy.

Renarin climbed to his feet, and surveyed the forest. It stretched out thickly on all sides, deep green just like its namesake. There didn’t seem to be any students nearby, although he could faintly hear other them entering the forest, including the familiar whoops of his brother.

Adolin may not be a fan of heights, but he had a way of falling with grace. Falling far to the east of Renarin, it seemed.

But right now, he was alone.

Renarin swallowed, and ran his thumb over the carvings on Glys’ handle. This was fine. He would be fine. Especially if he could find Adolin. He didn’t know any of the other new students- not to mention, he was starting two years early- but he could work with Adolin.

They’ve been training together all their lives. Adolin maybe wouldn’t mind another four years with him.

A plan solidified, Renarin headed northeast, cutting a diagonal towards both the temple and where he’d heard his brother shouting. He wasn’t sure how good his progress was, but he was certain it would be faster if he didn’t flinch at every passing shadow.

There were Grimm in these woods, but none had attacked him yet. With every passing moment of peace, he grew more and more anxious.

He cautiously stepped over a large black feather. He shivered. There could only have one source, and he didn’t want to meet that source.

A branch cracked nearby, and Renarin jumped backward, hand tightening on Glys. He’d notched a normal arrow, just in case something did emerge. He narrowed his eyes, peering through the brush. Nothing happened.

He eased back, and took a few steps forward.

A Beowolf leapt out of the bushes, unwieldy black-tar body skidding in the mud. Its spiky black fur bristled like frozen needles, and it’s long, yellow teeth opened in a gruesome roar.

Renarin reacted on reflex, pulling up his bow and firing an arrow into its chest, sinking deep between its ribs. The Beowolf howled and gurgled, the noise echoing through the woods, and Renarin winced as he smashed the butt of his bow against the skull, just to make sure it was dead.

Renarin closed his eyes, and looked forward. He was about to receive some unwanted attention.

He had notched a yellow arrow and fired upward before his eyes had reopened. He knew that his aim would be true.

Sure enough, the body of an Ursa Minor collapsed to the ground beside him, twitching with electricity. Renarin grimaced, and hoped the thing was dead.

Three more Ursa Minors emerged from the woods next to him, growling, but keeping a distance. They paced, circling him. More eyes began to light up the surrounding forest, gleaming crimson and watching him hungrily.

More eyes than he could count.

Renarin panicked. Three may have been a manageable number, but he didn’t know how many were out here now, and he couldn’t let himself be surrounded.

Especially considering his panic would only draw more. He notched an orange arrow and fired at the ground.

Upon impact, it released a powerful ripple of sound waves. The Ursa Minors cringed and whined, momentarily stunned. It gave Renarin a precious few moments to notch and draw back an arrow. He was hesitant to use some of the stronger types in such close quarters, so the arrow was yellow again.

He shot the Ursa who he’d slapped with his bow, and its body fell and writhed on the ground, then crumbled to dust and black smoke, signifying an end to the monster.

Renarin had no time to feel relieved, for soon, the rest of the monsters were upon him. He briefly looked forward, for some kind of plan. He stumbled away and pressed his back to a tree, notching a white arrow and gritting his teeth.

Two Ursa lunged for him at once. He shot one in the shoulder with the white arrow, and the resulting bloom of ice knocked it off balance. It toppled to the side and crashed into the other.

They tussled on the ground, struggling to stand, while a third Ursa leapt for him and two others loped at its heels.

Panicking, Renarin notched a red arrow and hit the monster in the gut. It exploded in a sphere of fire and force. He’d been trying to refrain from red arrows- he certainly did not want to light the forest on fire- but dangerous times called for dangerous measures.

The monster fell, and the two at its heels stumbled back, growling. Renarin fired another orange arrow, using the moment of confusion to catch his breath.

This was not going well. He needed to try something else.

An idea began to hatch in his brain. It was a stupid idea, but Renarin decided today was a day to act on impulses.

He yanked a light blue arrow from his quiver, and barely pausing to aim, fired it high above him into the branches. He activated the crystal just as the monsters fell in around him, and he soared into the air after the arrow.

He made it halfway before the arrow slipped out, pulled by his weight. Renarin cursed under his breath, and reached desperately for the branch, but he was too far away and falling back down into the monsters-

A hand closed around his wrist, and yanked him upward. Renarin flailed but scrambled up, landing in a heap on the branch. The hand in his fell away, and Renarin tried to reorder himself, although he knew he was probably flushed from embarrassment.

Another student crouched in the tree, much more graceful than Renarin, dressed in deep shades of blue with a wicked looking spear strapped to his back.

Most notable, however, were the wolfish black ears that curved from his head, twitching occasionally.

The faunus didn’t look very happy to see him, but he’d also saved Renarin, so he must not be too displeased.

Or. Well. Renarin would also be pretty upset if he got himself as a partner. He wasn’t exactly a catch, and he knew it.

“Uh, hi. My name’s Renarin.” He said awkwardly, managing a smile. The faunus narrowed his eyes at Renarin- they were dark brown, nearly black, and harshly scrutinizing.

“Are you a student?” He asked. What?

“Um, yes?”

“But you’re like… twelve.”

“I’m fifteen!” Renarin said in indignation. The faunus scoffed and didn’t respond. Renarin crossed his arms, and pointedly did not sulk.

He looked down at the Ursa, grimacing. They’d surrounded the tree easily, and had begun clawing at the trunk in an attempt to climb. He felt rather foolish, sitting up here like a lost cat.

The faunus moved suddenly, crouching as if prepared to spring. He pulled the spear from his back, giving Renarin a better look at it. It was silver and cyan, and appeared to glow in the harsh daylight.  
“I’m going to go deal with that.” The faunus said curtly, eyeing the monsters with distaste. “Don’t fall.”

Renarin frowned, but before he could protest, the faunus had dropped into the horde. Renarin jerked back in surprise, and nearly toppled over. He hoped the faunus hadn’t seen that.

No, the faunus had just dropped directly into the Grimm. He landed on the back of one’s head, and crashed the head of his spear into its skull. The monster dropped, and he whirled around, slashing his spear in a wide arc, beating away a number of the monsters.

The faunus fought with an inexorable grace. Renarin paused for a moment, watching. How was he supposed to keep up with a partner who was already so capable?

But Renarin had made it this far for a reason, shoving his way past the many, many people who thought he was incapable. He could make this work.

Even if he still didn’t know his partner’s name.

Renarin notched a purple arrow, and aimed carefully. Renarin’s was a sharpshooter, unlike Adolin, whose strength came out while dueling other hunters.

Apparently, his new partner’s strength was taking on far too many monsters at once. That might be fun to try one day.

He chose an Ursa a distance from the faunus, aiming for it’s skull. Sure enough, the arrow hit right between the eyes, and blasted out a bubble of violet energy.

It was far enough that the bubble didn’t affect the faunus, but knocked away several Ursa who had been getting much too close. One of them hit a tree with a nasty cracking sound.

Renarin notched two normal arrows and loosed them quickly, striking down a pair of Ursa who had been prowling behind the faunus while he was focused on the crescent of Ursa gathering around him, fighting them off with deft, adroit movements.

The commotion had drawn worse monsters, unfortunately. An Ursa Major lurked in the crowd, hulking over the smaller Ursa Minors. The faunus didn’t seem to have noticed it yet.

Internally, he reviewed what he knew about these monsters. All Ursa resembled bears, with smashed snouts and muscled but stumpy limbs. Like most Grimm, their fur was pitch black, and white carapace grew from their bodies, striped and patterned with red.

Ursa tended to grow that strange, natural armor across their backs, the front of their arms, and the skull. The carapace could be broken with enough force, but the eyes and underbelly made for easier targets.

The Ursa Major grew more carapace than its smaller counterparts, forming hard armor over its paws and face. Its eyes gleamed crimson, but the skull carapace curved around them, making them much harder to hit from above.

It still had a maw, however, and he couldn’t think of any creature who grew carapace in the gullet.

Renarin struck down a few more Ursa Minors, before focusing on the larger Grimm. He breathed deeply, and readied a red arrow. He would have to be careful with this one not to hit the faunus.

He counted his heartbeats. You can have up to ten heartbeats to be calm, ten heartbeats to steady your hand. No more.

By the time he’d reached 7, the Ursa Major lunged for the faunus, jumping the other Ursa Minors in one movement, opening its jaw wide. When it reached the top of its arc, and the Faunus had recoiled with his spear in the defensive position, Renarin fired.

The arrow slipped between its teeth and exploded, tearing the Grimm apart. Renarin winced. He supposed he should have been expecting that, but it still took him aback.

The faunus glanced back up at Renarin, appraising. Renarin smiled hesitantly.

A Grimm rammed into his tree, shaking it violently, and Renarin immediately lost his balance, falling from his perch with a yelp.

—

Somehow, Shallan managed to land without dying.

Being launched off a cliff was not how she imagined her first day at Beacon going, but here she was anyway. As she fell, she swung out with Pattern, and caught herself on a branch, red gauntlets crunching into the bark. Her momentum tugged her free, and she fell again, albeit less lethally.

She twisted around, and flung out, grappling the tree with her other hand. The force yanked her back, and she grabbed into the other side. She hung from the tree like that, likely looking ridiculous, but managed to keep her grip this time.

At least she was alive! That was a victory in her books. She slowly climbed down, and reached the ground with a sigh of relief. She slid Pattern back together, and rested him on her shoulder, looking out over the forest.

She had no idea where to go from here. So she just started walking. The forest was an unsettling place, but she could survive it. She would have to, for her family’s sake.

The forest swayed and buzzed, around her, verdant with life. Shallan itched for her sketchbook. The Emerald Forest was unique even in Vale, the towering trees forever bright green, as if frozen midsummer.

A rabbit dashed across her path, a blur of brown and white.

Something crashed in the brush behind her, and Shallan jumped, good mood evaporating. Maybe she was a bit in over her head.

Attuned to her aura, Pattern cocked automatically, gleaming brightly in the morning light. The sound brought her a measure of comfort.

It turned out not to matter. Tthere are still no Grimm- instead, a boy with stripy black and yellow hair, dressed in gold and blue armor, stumbling from between the trunks, smiling sheepishly.

Shallan relaxed, internally chiding herself. She was much too jumpy.

Or was that a good thing? If she was going to fight monsters, she needed to be alert.

She was going to fight monsters. Shallan buried the spike of anxiety that caused.

“Sorry about that. Bit of a rough landing. Did I scare you?” The boy asked, bringing her back to earth.

“No, actually, the Beowolf behind you scared me.” Shallan said casually. The boy startled, and whirled around, drawing the (really rather large) sword at his side. There was nothing but innocent trees behind him. He turned back towards her, shaking his head.

“Really?” He said sarcastically, but he was grinning anyway.

“There, now we’re even.” She grinned right back. He shook his head again, sighing melodramatically, but the happy expression on his face ruined it.

“You’re going to be a fun partner.” The boy decided.

“We’ll see if you still think that in a few weeks when I’ve driven you mad with puns.”

“We’ll see.” He agreed. “My name’s Adolin.” He offered his hand, and she took it, expecting a handshake. Instead, Adolin pulled her into a hug. Oh god, he was a hug person.

Shallan was not quite sure what to do about this. She stood there, frozen, but if Adolin noticed her hesitance, he didn’t say anything. When he withdrew, he was still beaming down at her.

“So. Off to the Forest Temple?” Shallan asked, trying to calm her blush.

Adolin slung an arm around her shoulder- wow, he was really touchy, wasn’t he- and began walking. “Off to the Forest Temple, partner!” He agreed.

Thankfully, he dropped his arm, but unfortunately, he was quite a bit taller than her, and she had trouble keeping up with his stupidly long legs.

She’d noticed that people tended to be taller in Vale than Atlas. She absently wonders if anyone has actually researched that yet.

Back to the problem at hand. “Can you slow down a bit?” Shallan huffed, looking up at her partner. “Or can you not be as tall? That would work, too.”

“Maybe you should try not being short.” He suggested, and tousled her hair. Shallan yelped indignantly, and darted away, batting at his hands.

“I will cut your legs off at the knees.” She warned. “I won’t hesitate.”

“It would take more than that to bring us even.”

“Oh, so you fancy losing all your legs?” And all the bits that come with those, she restrained herself from saying.

This was fun. Shallan hadn’t had a good bantering since she last saw that odd man who wore all black. Her chest was full with a strange bubbly feeling. Friendship?

She looks around at the forest, still thrumming with life. She blinks several times, pointedly. Even if she can’t use her sketchbook right now, she can always call on the memory and draw it later.

It occurs to her that she’ll be drawing it in her dorm, most likely. Her new dorm. With her partner. And two unknown teammates. She’ll be spending the next four years with three strangers, if she even makes it that long.

But they won’t be strangers for long. They’ll be friends! Maybe. Hopefully.

What if they aren’t friends? What if they don’t get along? What if-

Shallan shuts down that train of thought. Not only is it bothering her, but negative emotions draw Grimm, and she’d like to keep her monster encounters to a minimum.

“So, what kind of weapon do you use?” She asks Adolin suddenly. Anything for a distraction. He looks briefly surprised, but happily jumps into conversation.

“Maya! Well, that’s her nickname. Mayalaran is her full name. She’s my sword— she belonged to my mom! She doesn’t have anything fancy, like a gun, but she’s fast, light, and fantastic at killing Grimm. She’s wonderful.” He says enthusiastically, and draws his sword to emphasize his point.

He may not be the most eloquent, but at least he’s passionate. And Maya is a rather pretty sword, as far as swords go, long and sinuous along the cutting edge and rippled along the back. She’s surprisingly long, reaching maybe 5 feet. Patterns of vines are carved into the base of the blade.

“What about you?” He asks, and Shallan looks up from the sword. She holds up her fists, and the sleek red metal that coats them up to her forearm. They’re bulkier around her wrists and the back of her hand, with thick layers of metal over her knuckles hiding delicate machinery.

She carved them with black swirls and intricate designs, and she can still recall the hours spent painstakingly turning the weapons into pieces of art.

“Although it looks really simple, Pattern has a unique feature. A fancy feature, if you will. Two fancy features.” Shallan explains. “He’s also a jewelry and a gun.” She says with a grin.

Just for flavor, she clicks Pattern down into bracelets and back into gauntlets. Now may not be the best time to show him the guns, she decides.

Adolin coos and leans in, gently running his fingers over Pattern. Shallan giggles, and extends her fingers. She’s seen people react to babies the same way.

She drops her hands, clasping them in front of her. In turn, Adolin sheathes Maya, incredibly gentle, with the look of a proud parent tucking their child into bed. Shallan covers her giggle with a cough.

“You know, I kind of thought I’d see more Grimm.” Adolin mentions, looking around. “With all the kids crashing in and out, I figured they’d all be whipped up into a frenzy.”

Shallan nods. “Me too. Maybe other students are busy distracting the monsters.”

“Hogging them all to themselves, more like. I was looking forward to showing off my skills!”

“Well, now that you’ve said that, we’re bound to stumble right into a Deathstalker nest.”

Adolin chortled. Suddenly, he perked up, grinning widely.

“I think we found the Temple, actually!” Adolin pointed towards the opening in a cliff wall. The cliff was markably different from the one they fell off of, much shorter, but leading to a steep canyon some seventy feet to the right.

The opening looked just like a normal cave, but strange markings around the side implied something different.

Shallan wasn’t sure she really trusted it, but given the whole ‘destroy everything in your path or you will die’ speech from earlier, she wouldn’t be surprised if the temple really was just a creepy cave in the forests.

…  
10 minutes later, they are left with the discovery that no, that was not the temple. They had ventured into the darkness and found a Deathstalker and its nest. Shallan regretted ever opening her mouth.

They departed the cave on the back of the screeching monster. Well, Shallan did. Somehow, Adolin ended up dangling from the barbed end of its long tail, just barely avoiding being stung while clinging to a nightmare version of a scorpion. Shallan was busy holding onto its armored head for dear life.

An interesting initiation indeed.

—

Renarin holds up the black knight piece, offering it to the faunus for inspection. He shrugs indifferently, and, stifling a sigh, Renarin tucks the artifact into his pocket.

After his rather embarrassing fall from the tree- which he would like to pretend never happened- he and his new partner made it away from the Ursa safely (by killing them) and had finally found the Forest Temple. Temple was a bit of a generous term.

It was shaped like a half crescent of crumbling masonry. It looked like it had been smashed in by something large- likely a Goliath, if Renarin were to make a guess.

12 pedestals marked the inside of the crescent, each holding an artifact; a chess piece. Two black knights and two white knights, two black rooks and two white rooks, two black bishops and two white bishops.

At least, Renarin assumed they used to be there. He and the faunus had taken the black knight, but several were already gone, including a bishop of each color and a white rook.

“What’s that sound?” The faunus said suddenly, perched on a tall piece of rock and glaring into the forest. Renarin walked up beside him, and listened intently. He could faintly hear shouting, but it was too distant to really make anything out.

“It sounds sort of like screaming?” Renarin said, pushing his glasses up. The faunus scowled.

“I’m going to go find the source.” He tensed, ready to spring off, but Renarin grabbed his shoulder and yanked him back. The faunus turned his glare to Renarin, and he shrank under the heat of it.

Renarin had thought him cold and distant, but there was something electric in his eyes, like lightning.

Renarin withdrew his hand. “Sorry, I just- let me check something first.” He mumbled. The faunus tilted his head, opening his mouth as if about to say something, but Renarin shut him out, closed his eyes and looked forward.

All huntsmen and huntresses had a semblance.

All beings with souls had them, really, but the semblances of hunters were what really gave them an edge up in combat. Souls produce both aura and semblance- two different, but connected, culminations of your soul’s power.

Aura formed as sort of armor around a huntsman, helping to protect him and keep him intact in a fight, almost like a forcefield. Semblances are manifestations of personal power, and much more unique, varying wildly from person to person.

According to popular belief, Renarin and Adolin did not have semblances. This was a mar on their family’s reputation, and although Dalinar had never voiced it aloud, it was clear what he thought. It was clear to Renarin.

And it was true, at least, that Adolin had not found his semblance.

Renarin had found his a long time ago, unfortunately.

Adolin had nicknamed it Foresight, and that was fairly accurate. When Renarin activated his semblance, he could see a few moments into the future, a brief flash forward. It ran deeper than that, too, infecting his dreams with longer, but more confusion, visions of the distant future, but he’d never told anybody about those dreams.

He used his Foresight to see ahead in battle, and that was simply that.

He never told his father. He almost did, once, but the mere implication of clairyvoyance made Dalinar tense. It was enough for Renarin to decide it wasn’t worth it.

He slipped away from the present and into the near future, like slipping beneath the surface of the ocean into the murkiness beneath. Just a few minutes, that was all, but it was enough.

“…Renarin? Renarin!” He reopened his eyes, blinking rapidly. His partner was shaking his shoulder, looking somewhere between annoyed and concerned.

“I’m back.” Renarin murmured, and absently patted the hand on his shoulder. The faunus pulled away, narrowing his eyes at Renarin.

“Back?”

“I think we should go stand by that tree. It’s nice and thick trunked.”

“What?”

“Just trust me.”

Renarin had no idea if the faunus would actually follow him. There didn’t seem to be much trust between them yet, whether as a result of Renarin’s awkwardness or the faunus’ cold detachment, or some combination of both.

Renarin still hoped he would follow.

And he did. A pleasant surprise. Renarin eyed the section of forest where they should be crashing through any moment now, bow gripped in one hand.

He can faintly hear the sound of bird wings. Odd, since he couldn’t hear any bird song.

First to come through is Adolin. He flies from between the trees, and lands in a heap, but manages to clamber back to his feet just before the Deathstalker crashes through, carrying that girl on its head, the one who’d been standing by him before initiation began.

Renarin’s partner mutters a string of curses.

“Shallan! Found the temple!” Adolin calls out, and points at the ring of pedestals, then rushes forward at the Deathstalker. While it’s distracted by him, Shallan scrambles from its head and into the temple.

“Get one of the knights!” He adds, wrestling with the Deathstalker tail. Shallan’s face scrunches up in exasperation.

“Why?! I like the rooks!”

“Knights are cooler!”

“Some dude on a horse is cooler than a castle?”

“Duh!”

The faunus loses his patience. “Is a fucking chess piece really your priority right now?!” He shouts across the field at them. The two look over at him in unison.

“Yes!” Shallan yells, at the same time Adolin says, “Oh, hey, Renarin!”

“Hi!” Renarin waves. The faunus looks at him.

“You know those two?” He asks, visibly annoyed.

Renarin shrugs. “One of them. The guy with the sword is my brother.”

“Of course he is,” He says under his breath, looking up at the sky. Renarin smiles sheepishly. He feels the urge to apologize, although he doesn’t know what for.

The Deathstalker roars, and rears up, finally throwing Adolin from its back. He lands with his customary grace. It turns on him, tail lashing down.

A red-fletched arrow sprouts from its head at the same time that Adolin knocks it back with Maya. The explosion detonates, sending the insect-like Grimm sprawled on its back, legs wriggling in the air.

“Thanks!” Adolin shouts. Renarin shoots him a thumbs up.

“Let’s just go now.” Renarin’s partner says with a sigh.

“Mind if we come with?” A feminine voice pipes up, and Renarin startles back. Shallan is standing right next to them. When did she get there?

The faunus’ ears flick back. “If you’re going to do anything like that again?” He gestures back toward the Deathstalker, who Adolin is poking curiously with a large stick. “Yes.”

“I wouldn’t mind,” Renarin jumps in. The faunus looks at him sharply. Shallan cocks an eyebrow.

“We would certainly be better company than Mr. Grumpy over there,” She agrees.

“Then you three can go off and die together, and I will gladly make the trip back alone,” The faunus says coldly. Renarin winces.

Shallan tilts her head. “But then, how would we ward off the Grimm, if not with your malodor?”

Renarin looks at her questioningly. “I don’t smell anything,” He says in confusion. She sighs.

“I’m not my best at being witty in the morning. Get back to me after lunch, I’ll have some real quips for you then.”

Renarin nods, even though he still doesn’t quite understand. A harsh wind ripples the tops of the trees, and he shivers.

When he looks back at his partner, the faunus’ expression has turned very, very scary. That’s… not good. Renarin fidgets with the hem of his sleeves.

They’re unexpectedly saved by Adolin, who suddenly pops up between Renarin and his partner, slinging his arms around their shoulders. The faunus tenses, glaring down at Adolin, who, despite his own significant height, is still an inch or two shorter.

“Hey so what do you guys say about leaving right now very quickly?” He says in a rush, laughing loudly. Renarin blanches.

“Adolin, what did you do?” He asks worriedly. Adolin looks at him in exaggerated offense.

“Why do you always assume I’ve done something? It’s really not fair.” He complains. “I just think we should all leave.” The faunus throws his arm off with a scowl.

“There is no we-“

“Y’know, I kind of thought that Deathstalker was a bit small.” Shallan comments. “Anyone else?”

Renarin considers this. “It seemed more like an infant more than a fully grown Grimm.” He admits. Adolin grins nervously.

“And right there would be its mother?” Shallan guesses, pointing towards a much larger Grimm scuttling toward them, hissing loudly.

“Probably.” Renarin says, clutching Glys closer to him. He closes his eyes, and looks forward, half submerging himself in the future.

A giant, hulking black form- a dark beak coming down like a guillotine- feathers flying and a crumbling bridge- vivid, vivid blue eyes- “Kaladin, wait-“

Renarin opens his eyes. “Oh dear,” He mumbles. “This is going to be difficult.”

“Is anyone here capable of being fucking straightforward about anything-” His partner turns, snarling, but before he can finish, the Nevermore swoops from the sky and crashes to the earth, loosing an ear splitting cry.

Like a bleeding wound in the sky, its giant black wings spread. Renarin moves automatically, grabbing his partner and his brother and throwing them with what strength he has into the shelter of the redwood behind him.

Thankfully, his brother snags Shallan’s wrist and pulls her along with them, until they’re a tangled mess of limbs, Renarin’s knee folded over Adolin’s calf and his face pressed along his partner’s chest.

The Nevermore flaps, and it sounds like a tornado. Black feathers spray from its wings, lodging into the ground around them like knives. Several hit the ground where they were standing and jar the tree in front of them.

“Damn it,” his partner swears. Renarin can feel the rumble of his voice in his ribs, even through his clothing. The faunus shoves himself free, Adolin and Shallan following, leaving Renarin frozen against the tree.

He shakes himself into movement, and peers around the edge in time to see the Nevermore taking off into the sky once more, beady red eyes fixed on their scraggly group.

Renarin can’t see him, but he knows his partner’s eyes are glowing bright blue. “Kaladin, wait, can you please hold on-” He starts, turning around, although he knows it’s hopeless.

The Nevermore takes off, and Kaladin has taken to the sky as well, following the giant killer bird.

Shallan raises her eyebrows. “…Oh. He can fly.”

—  
  
Kaladin soars through the air, and with the wind carding through his hair and roaring in his ears, he feels like he can breathe again.

He’s lashed himself upward, a few times over, so he releases a few of them and lashes himself to the east after the Nevermore. It’s not difficult to catch up, considering the beast would very much like to eat Kaladin and is already rushing toward him.

He dives down as it dives up, narrowly missing its beak and shooting beneath its chin. He spins midair and plunges Syl into its neck, anchoring himself to the thing.

He grits his teeth and keeps his grip firm on her handle as the thing screeches and loops, trying to throw him off.

Muscles straining, he pulls himself forward, grabbing onto its shoulder and holding tight. It seems he missed anything vital with Syl.

Annoying. He digs his fingers into the thing’s feathers, and readies himself to yank Syl out and try again.

A glowing cobalt arrow sprouts from it’s next, mere inches from his hand. What the fuck. It’s heavy, with a thick metal shaft and a dust cartridge visible within, although it’s a shade of blue he doesn’t recognize. And he could just about recognize them all, he thinks bitterly.

The arrow is soon succeeded by a body that slams into the side of the Grimm, frantically scrabbling for a hold on it.

Kaladin groans, rolls his eyes, and reaches out, wrapping his hand around Renarin’s before he can go flying off.

“Something tells me you should not go messing about with heights,” Kaladin says drily.

Renarin frowns. “I do just fine with heights.”

“If you belonged in the sky, you would know it by now. You don’t belong up here.”

Renarin looks up at him, a little hurt, but Kaladin will not feel bad for him. Kaladin’s almost 100% certain he only got here, and two years early at that, because he’s the headmaster’s son. Kaladin’s isn’t going to treat him nice because nepotism’s a bitch.

“I told you to wait,” he mutters, voice almost lost in the wind. “Couldn’t you have just waited?”

He doesn’t bother responding.

He lets go of Renarin’s hand- the boy fumbles for a moment, but catches his arrow in one fist and feathers in the other- and readjusts his grip on Syl, preparing to continue with his plan.

With a deep breath, he wrenches Syl free, and as he goes spinning through the air, lodges her near the base of the beast’s skull. The thing roars, and the jarring impact almost tears Kaladin loose, but he manages.

Syl’s trigger clicks out, disrupting the normally smooth surface of her shaft, and Kaladin wraps his hand around and fires, unloading a round into the Nevermore.

The things bellows, furious, and enters a steep belly dive, down towards a deep gully only interrupted by an ancient, crumbling bridge. Absolutely not stable.

So whoever is fighting a Deathtalker on it is a fool.

As they near the bridge, and the tall stone pillars that flank it in intervals, Kaladin yanks himself to the side and lashes himself to the nearest of those pillar.

The Nevermore screeches, but he manages to drive it off course, and its wing smashes into a piece of the bridge. It smashes hard, with the audible sound of breaking stone and snapping bone.

Syl’s purchase in the Nevermore isn’t quite enough, and the lashing pushes him off course too. He is abruptly sent flying, and just barely manages to cancel the lashing and land with a crash on the bridge.

Weakened by the Nevermore, it threatens to crumble beneath his weight, and he sprints farther up the bridge, avoiding a nasty fall into the gully.

“Oh, hey Kaladin! Come here often?” Adolin cheerfully yells somewhere behind him, against a backdrop of Deathstalker rattles and more feminine shouting.

Kaladin ignores him.

He tracks the Nevermore, which has latched onto the side of the gully and is slowly pulling itself upward aided by its one wing. He quickly finds that glowing blue arrow, and his new partner beside it, still hanging onto the neck of the Grimm. He sighs and readies Syl, tensing to jump.

—

Adolin snaps his attention away from the faunus, and rolls to the side as the Deathstalker’s tail swings down at his head. It really is much larger than the one they fought earlier.

And this bridge does not give them much more advantage against it, but Renarin said they needed to be there, so here they were.

He tries to stay focused on the Deathstalker, but his attention keeps pulling to the Nevermore, who is crawling up the side of the cliff like an oversized insect.

Kaladin, his brother’s partner, is there on the bridge- but where is his brother? The worry gnaws at his stomach like acid.

“Adolin, duck!” Shallan calls out, and Adolin throughs himself to the ground so hard he tastes blood. Even so, his avoidance of the Deathstalker’s stinger is narrow at best.

“Right, okay, we need to be done with this thing quickly,” he decides.

“ I take the head, you take the tail?”

“Sounds like a plan to me!”

This time, when the tail arcs towards him, Adolin doesn’t dodge. Maya swings true over his head, deflecting the barb.

Drops of acid splash on the ground, where the tip was cut by her finely honed edge. He follows up before the Deathstalker can, leaping to the air and bringing her down.

She slices cleanly through the tail, and it falls to the ground squirming. Adolin grimaces, because it’s actually super gross. The Deathstalker howls.

He sees Shallan perches on it’s head again, knuckles pressed against the carapace, firing repeatedly. It tries to reel up and throw her off, but Adolin dashes forward and leaps on it, driving Maya through it’s middle and into the dirt, pinning it there.

Shallan keeps firing, and the carapace cracks, then cracks, then gives, and her shots drive into the gooey innards of its head. It gives one final skittering howl, then falls limp, limbs akimbo.

Shallan looks up at him, grinning, face flushed with victory, vibrant red hair mussed and glowing like a fiery halo in the sun. He grins back and whoops, both because they won and because he got a seriously awesome partner.

“Teamwork!” she cheers.

“Teamwork!” he agrees. “Now, let’s find my brother!”

Together, they take off running down the bridge.

Kaladin has left his spot at the edge, and somehow made it on top of a pillar, and Adolin can make out his silhouette reeling back and firing his spear at the Nevermore.

He still can’t see his brother- and Renarin is probably fine, really, he’s a smart boy, but he can’t see him-

“Look!” Shallan grabs his attention, pointing at the Nevermore. Adolin follows her eyes and squints, inhaling sharply when he sees a figure in silver and green and blue scaling the beast, made most obvious by the gleaming, red crystalline bow in his hands.

“We need to get over there.” Adolin says immediately.

“How?” Shallan asks, brow furrowing.

“I don’t know, we just need to!” Adolin’s volume rises, and out of the corner of his eyes, he sees Shallan flinch. “We just need to figure something out.” He says, trying to be calmer.

“…I’m not sure we can make some of these jumps, even with aura.” She says slowly.

“And neither of us really use ranged weapons.” Adolin grimaces.

“However…” Shallan’s eyes glint. “I have Dust.”

“Am I going to like where you’re going with this?” Adolin asks warily.

She snorts. “That depends on how much of a self-preservation instinct you have.”

—

Kaladin threw Syl, hard as he could, and watched with satisfaction as she drove into the shoulder of the one functional wing the Nevermore had remaining.

Using her as a beacon, he braced himself for another lashing, and went flying towards the gully wall.

He cancelled the lashing just before he collided with the Nevermore, and grabbed Syl as an anchor, all his momentum channeling into driving her deeper. The Nevermore screamed and slipped, almost losing its footing on the wall.

It caught itself, thankfully. It wasn’t allowed to fall yet. Not until Kaladin had a solid handle on his unfortunate partner.

He may not relish the idea of working with someone, but he wasn’t about to have some kid’s blood on his hands.

“Kaladin!” Aforementioned kid spoke up, looking down at him from his shaky grip on the Nevermore’s head. “Get off the bird!”

“I came here to get you off the bird,” Kaladin growled.

“I don’t need you to, I need you to get it-”

“Sure you don’t,” he scoffed, and yanked Syl free, stabbing her higher into the Grimm and climbing higher.

“Please, just listen to me! If you get back to that pillar and-”

Kaladin ignored him.

The Nevermore had almost made it to the top of the gully. He screeched triumphantly, and flapped its remaining wing desperately, but only ends up skidding back down.

The arrow lodged into its skull that Renarin had been clinging to came loose, and with a shout, he fell from the head, hands reaching out and raking desperately for a grip.

For the third time that day, Kaladin caught him. It almost wrenched him free- as it was, it made his shoulder grind painfully in its socket, but he managed to hold on to Renarin, who dug his arrow into the thing’s back.

Renarin made an unintelligible noise of frustration in the back of his throat, and looked up at Kaladin with wide eyes.

“Look, I appreciate your help, I really, really do, but I need you to work with me if we’re going to beat this thing!”

“Fine, whatever, I’ll work with you once we’re on solid ground and you’re not in danger of falling to your death!” Kaladin said in exasperation.

“Can you get me up there?” He asks, face set.

“Up there?”

“The plateau, the thing we’re climbing! Can you get me up there before the Nevermore reaches the top?”

Kaladin grits his teeth. “I can only affect my gravity, not anyone else’s.” He learned that the hard way. He bites down the bitter taste of regret that comes surging up the back of his throat.

“Alright, can you get us both up there?”

“Unless you’re really fucking heavy, probably?”

“I’m not, so let’s do that!”

“No, I-”

“Please, just trust me!”

Renarin’s looking at him with desperate, pleading eyes, and he sounds… genuine. Kaladin’s better sense argues with what little remains of his naivety, because despite it all, there’s still a little piece of him that wants to trust, and he gives in.

Kaladin pulls Syl free, digging her back in when he’s about level with Renarin. He wraps an arm around Renarin’s waist and tenses, preparing for the lashing.

“Hold on,” he grunts, and kicking them both loose, he lashes them upward.

—

Shallan and Adolin skid to a stop on a freestanding platform of the bridge, red Dust sparking out behind them, Adolin clinging to her shoulders as she fires.

“That was something!” She says, breathless.

“Something, alright,” Adolin gives a strained laugh, and lets go of his partner, craning his head up to look at the Nevermore. “Oh, what is he doing now…” he says despairingly.

Renarin and his ill-tempered partner are flying now, apparently, trying to beat the Nevermore in a breakneck race for the top.

The Grimm, having caught sight of them, is advancing quickly, hungry break opening and snapping viciously.

Adolin presses his lips together and his mind races.

“We need to slow that thing down.” Shallan says, and Adolin nods.

“That’s what I was thinking. Maybe, if we can get up on that pillar-”

“It’s awfully tall…” Shallan eyes it nervously.

“Seriously? Aren’t you the girl who suggested we propel ourselves over an extremely unstable bridge using red Dust? Is this any more dangerous than that? Did you use up all of your boldness points or something?”

Shallan gives a half shoulder shrug. “Yeah, probably.” She mutters, and sighs, cracking her knuckles and preparing to climb. She pauses.  
  
“Actually,” she says thoughtfully. “There are two pillars here, right? What if I climbed that one instead of this one?”

“I mean, it’s shorter-”

“Precisely. You could cut down the taller with your sword, and-”

“Oh. OH.” Adolin grins. “I know where you’re going with this.”

Shallan beams back, and turns, racing towards the other pillar and beginning to grapple towad the top. Adolin reels back with Maya, and swings forward.

She cuts easily through the stone, and with a well place shove and some bullets courtesy of Shallan, it crashes forward into the lower half of the Nevermore.

The Grimm screeches, and falls back. Several small, fiery explosions sprawy across it’s wings, fired from Pattern, and it screams even louder. Kaladin and Renarin pull ahead, cresting the top and landing on the high ground.

“Can I come down now?” Shallan calls out, looking really rather pale.

“Yeah, I think they got this.”

—

Kaladin lands on top of the plateau, a bit harder than he intended. His aura protects him, but it’s running low. Renarin takes the fall worse but recovers faster, steadying himself on Kaladin’s shoulders.

“Alright, what now?” he asks irritably. Renarin draws his glittering crimson bow, and knocks an arrow fletched with red.

“Hold on,” he murmurs. His eyes fall half-lidded, and glow green for a moment. Kaladin is almost fascinate despite everything. Renarin’s lips twitch, without really talking, and the breath that huffs from his mouth takes on a strange, misty green glow.

His eyes return to their normal color, and Renarin seems to return to himself.

“This should work,” he says decisively. “When it comes up, it’s going to try to- well, it’s almost here, you’ll see. You’ll see. I just need you to keep it open-”

Before Kaladin can ask what the hell he’s talking about, the Nevermore reels up from the plateau, screaming. It digs it’s claws into the edge of the cliff, and rises like a black obelisk against the sky.

Renarin is going to get us both killed, Kaladin thinks with dawning horror.

He plants his feet and raises his spear anyway.

The Grimm’s giant obsidian beak comes down, crashing like the blade of a guillotine, cracking open, barely. Realization strikes Kaladin, and he hovers upwards the meet the beak, driving Syl into that crack.

“I sure hope this is what you fucking meant.” He snarls, and twists his spear, even as the force of the beast shoves him down. Syl latchs and digs into the soft inside of it’s mouth and force it open.

“It is.” Renarin says quietly, almost happily. He releases the arrow, and it disappears into the monster’s mouth. For a moment, nothing happens.

And then its head explodes.

—

Kaladin is not a stranger to shitty luck and shitty people. Pessimism is easy, because it is more realistic. You’re either right and not disappointed, or you’re pleasantly surprised.

Kaladin is pleasantly surprised to find he’s allowed to shower and change his clothing, ridding himself of the viscera and gore from the Nevermore’s death.

The majority of it dissolved, as Grimm corpses usually did, but still left streaks of black soot and tar, and that was pretty fucking disgusting.

He bathes quickly and leaves before his partner is done, avoiding a conversation. He wonders if he can go the entire four years without another conversation. It’s an impossible, if nice thought.

Kaladin hides himself in a corner of the locker rooms, where all the students have been sent to wait before team assignments, glowering at anyone who tries to come near him. It’s an effective deterrent. He has a scary glare.

And it’s satisfying in a sick way to watch them scatter. He tells himself it’s satisfying. Because it’s definitely not a little hurtful.

He can practically feel people staring at him anyway, despite how intimidating he tries to make himself. Out of the corner of his eyes, he can see a group of boys snickering and glancing in his direction. One of them holds his hands above his head and moves them, imitating ears.

Kaladin’s ears go flat against the top of his head, and he narrows his eyes at the boy. The boy pales a bit and shoves his hands down, looking away. Now that? That is very gratifying.

He’s so distracted by them, he doesn’t notice his partner sitting by him until he speaks.

“Um, hi.” Kaladin jumps and snaps his head to the side, so quickly he almost gets whiplash, hand automatically going for Syl. Renarin’s eyes widen, and he scoots back, holding his palms up.

“Sorry, sorry, I- I did not mean to startle you, I’m… sorry about that, just wanted to uh- um, say hi, and apologize for the Nevermore head explosion thing, that was kind of gross, sorry, maybe should have mentioned that would happen before I did that? But, er, also, great- great spear… skills, spear skills, um- you’re a really good fighter, Kaladin.” He rambled, and then cut off awkwardly, looking somewhere just to the left of Kaladin’s head.  
  
Kaladin forces his fists to relax, and eyes Renarin appraisingly. He still seemed genuine. He could be lying. Or he could just be an idiot. Kaladin was leaning towards the later.

“…Okay.” He says in response, and turns away, watching Renarin out of the corner of his eye.

His new partner practically wilts, blinking several times and clasping his hands in his laps.

“How do you know my name?” Kaladin asks suddenly, ears twitching. He doesn’t remember telling him.

Renarin blinks owlishly behind his glasses. “Oh. I, um… My semblance-“ and his voice is pitched lower now, secretive. “-is a bit weird like that. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t mention it to people, my father wouldn’t like it much-“ oh, and that’s a bitterness he can’t quite hide-. “-but I can more or less see into the future. A little bit. And I saw myself saying your name!”

Kaladin’s forehead slowly creases in confusion. “But how’d you know? In the future you saw, how did you know my name?”

“Because, in that future, I had also seen into the future?”

“Okay, sure, but it had to come from somewhere.”

“I… guess I don’t really now. Sorry.” Renarin shrugs, looking sheepish. Kaladin sighs and drops it.

They sit in silence, shoulder to shoulder, safely several inches apart.

—

“Relis Ruthar, Abrobadar Aladar, Jakamav Roion, and Elit Ruthar, you collected the Bishop pieces. You will form Team Rajah, and will be led by Relis Ruthar.” On the wide screen that Dalinar is backlit by, images of each student pops up, accompanied by the initials RAJH.

The students in question stand atop a podium, and laugh and grin at each other, clearly pleased to be a team. The announcement is met with clapping, from whatever parents chose to attend the ceremony, as well as the staff and likely several alumni.

Renarin shifted nervously from foot to foot in the wings. On one hand, he absolutely did not want to go out there and stand in front of everyone and hear his name be called. On the other, he just wanted to get this over with.

Next to him, Kaladin was a pillar of cold composure. Adolin was excited, not apprehensive.  
  
Shallan was the only one who looked like she might be nervous, although she did a better jo of hiding it. Renarin figures they’re probably the only two reasonable people there.

Maybe Kaladin isn’t quite so composed. There is a muscle periodically jumping in cheek, because at this point, it’s blatantly obvious they’re in a team together. He must be disappointed.

Which is, number one, absolutely not fair of him, because it’s not like they wanted to be on a team with him either, and numer two, it’s really not fair of him, because Adolin is going to be a great team mate and Renarin doesn’t know Shallan very well yet but she seems cool, and honestly Renarin is the only one to be worried about, and 3 out of 4 isn’t bad. It’s not like he’s going to be team leader.

Jasnah turns towards them from where she was watching the stage, and cocks an eyebrow, gesturing with a well-manicured hand to the stage.  
Renarin swallows thickly, but surprisingly, the march is led by Shallan. Kaladin follows next, then Adolin, and finally Renarin, hurrying to keep up and not be left behind.

“Renarin Kholin, Adolin Kholin, Kaladin Stormblessed, and Shallan Davar, you collected the Knight pieces.” Wait, was that seriously Kaladin’s last name?

“Together, you will form team Cassia, and will be led by Renarin Kholin.”

Images of the four of them appear on the screen, over initials spelling out KASS. Renarin looks on in horror.

Adolin claps him on the shoulder, beaming. Shallan gives him an encouraging smile. And Kaladin-

Oh, dear.

He is just as cold as ever, but there is something like lightning, very angry and very scary and oddly tired in his eyes.

This is going to be a horrible four years, Renarin thought miserably.

**Author's Note:**

> I am so goddamn tired, I am sorry if there are issues


End file.
